


How to Flirt with Your Crush

by LittleWhiteTie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Seduction, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29063661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWhiteTie/pseuds/LittleWhiteTie
Summary: Keith doesn't know how to flirt. He consults wikiHow.Tip #7: compliment him. Talk about his eyes, smile, lips, hair, or hands.“Your new hand is nice,” Keith blurts out. “It’s, uh. Big.”Shiro lets out a surprised laugh. “It is that.”“I like your new hair too,” Keith says, going for broke. “It’s white.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 121
Collections: Sheith Cookbook





	How to Flirt with Your Crush

Keith doesn’t flirt. 

Keith doesn’t flirt, but apparently, he’s going to have to. At least, that’s what all the other paladins tell him, because if he doesn’t at least _try_ , Shiro’s going to end up romantically involved with someone else. Rumours have been flying around the Garrison about other crew members trying to get with Shiro, and while he hasn’t said “yes” yet, it’s only a matter of time.

Tonight is Keith’s chance. Tonight, before he leaves on his next big mission, he’s meeting Shiro at Marble’s—the diner in town closest to the Garrison, where they used to go in simpler times. It’s not a date, but it’s as close as he’s ever going to get to one.

Nostalgia floods him as soon as he walks through the diner’s door, its string-tied bells jingling with his arrival. It hasn’t changed one bit. The lights still have a rose glow to them; the old broken jukebox still sits abandoned in its corner; the old Americana-themed photographs still line the walls in their mismatched frames. A smell hits him hard, a distinct greasy scent he can only describe as _Marble’s_. 

The place is completely empty. It’s past 8 PM, but Marble’s has never been busy; Keith’s never seen more than three tables occupied at a time, including their own. Frankly, it’s a miracle the diner is still here at all. 

“For two,” Keith tells the server, making a vee with his fingers.

“Right this way,” she says, in her Southern drawl, picking up two menus from a small stack and leading him to the back. 

She gestures to a table in the middle, but Keith says, “Actually, can we take that one?” He nods to the one in the corner beneath a faded rockabilly poster, the one they sat at the first time Shiro took him here. 

“Of course,” she says, changing course.

Keith slides into the familiar booth, shifting to the least cracked part of the burgundy pleather seat. 

“So, you been here before?” the server asks.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “We used to come here a lot, back in the day.” 

She nods at the seat across from Keith. “You waiting for someone special?” 

“Yeah,” Keith says, with a small smile. “He’s pretty special.”

“You look a little nervous,” she says, not unkindly.

“I’m not,” Keith insists, wiping his palms on his skinny jeans. He can do this. He _can._

“Can I bring you anything while you wait?” she asks.

Keith shakes his head. “I’m good.”

As she walks away, Keith glances down at the menus. They’re exactly the same, just more worn now, their laminated sheets crinkled and faded. Keith doesn’t need to look at the menu to know he’s going to order the triple chocolate cake, _aka_ heaven on earth. Shiro introduced it to him back in the day, and since then, Keith has never even bothered trying anything else.

Instead of looking at the menu, he pulls out his phone and reviews the article Lance referred him to— _wikiHow: How to Flirt with Your Crush_. He rolls his eyes, but Lance somehow won over Allura, and Keith is still very, very single, so he can’t really say anything.

The bells jingle as the front door opens. He doesn’t look over— _Tip #2: play it cool—_ and waits. His ears perk up at the footsteps: that gait is Shiro’s, no doubt about it. He tries to calm his hammering heart.

_Tip #3: lower your gaze, and look up at him through your lashes._ Keith gets ready to greet Shiro with a seductive gaze, but before he can do that, Shiro says—with no small amount of incredulity in his voice—“Keith, what are you wearing?”

Keith snaps his head up and flushes head to toe. “I-it’s not mine,” he says. Lance had _insisted_ he wear one of his shirts, one with a stupidly deep v-neck and a subtle shimmery leopard print that, under the diner lights, is not so subtle after all. “I… spilled coffee on my last clean shirt.”

Shiro’s lips quirk up, eyes dancing with mirth. “Alright then,” he says, and slides into the booth across from Keith.

Keith sighs. _Tip #1: dress to impress_ was clearly a failure. But he’s got all evening, and he _will_ seduce Shiro, as many tries as it takes.

Shiro’s smile moves from playful to serene. He gestures to the environment around them. “This really brings me back.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. 

_Tip #4: Smile slowly: slow, languid smiles are generally considered sexy._ Keith haltingly pulls his lips up into a grin. 

“What?” Shiro says.

Keith blinks. “Huh?”

“What are you thinking about?” Shiro asks. “You had this _smile_ on your face.”

“Um,” Keith says. “I don’t know. I forget.” 

Shiro laughs. “Long day for you too?”

“Something like that,” Keith says. He cocks his head toward the abandoned menus in the middle of the table. “Triple chocolate cake?”

Shiro grins. “How did you know?”

Keith tries _Tip #3_ again and levels a sultry gaze at him, batting his lashes. _Tip #5: lower the tone and volume of your voice when speaking._ “I just know you so well.”

“What’s that?” Shiro says. “I didn’t catch that.” 

“I KNOW YOU WELL,” Keith says. 

Shiro smiles. “That you do.” 

_Tip #6: tease him._ “Going deaf, old timer?” 

“No, you were mumbling,” Shiro says. 

“...True,” Keith concedes, unsure of how else to respond.

Thankfully, the server interrupts their conversation as she comes back to take their orders. 

“We’ll both have the triple chocolate cake,” Keith says. 

The server gives them an apologetic grimace. “It’s a popular dessert. Unfortunately, there’s only one slice left.” 

“He can have it,” Keith says. “I’ll just get something else.”

“Might I recommend the lime mousse pie?” the server suggests. “It’s to die for.”

“Sure,” Keith says. “I’ll get one of those.”

She nods and tucks her unused pen and notebook in her apron. “One triple chocolate cake and one lime mousse pie coming right up.” 

“We can share,” Shiro says, after she’s disappeared through the red doors into the kitchen. 

Keith shrugs. “Triple chocolate cake’s your favourite.” 

“It’s your favourite too,” Shiro protests. 

“Who knows,” Keith says. “Maybe it’ll be good to try something new.” 

“Like your shirt,” Shiro smirks.

Keith groans.

“Do you remember the first time we came here?” Shiro asks.

“Of course I do,” Keith says. “You brought me here for my sixteenth birthday.” It had been the first time anyone had celebrated his birthday since his dad passed. He doesn’t bring that up, though, because he’s pretty sure _Tip #10_ is _don’t talk about your dead parents._

“That was ages ago. A lifetime, technically,” Shiro adds with a wry smile. “Things were pretty different back then.”

“I’m taller now,” Keith says, ever the conversationalist. 

“My hair was still black,” Shiro says. “No scars, except the one on my knee. I had two mostly functional human hands back then, too.”

_Tip #7: compliment him. Talk about his eyes, smile, lips, hair, or hands._

“Your new hand is nice,” Keith blurts out. “It’s, uh. Big.” 

Shiro lets out a surprised laugh. “It is that.” 

“I like your new hair too,” Keith says, going for broke. “It’s white.” 

“Also true,” Shiro says. 

_Tip #8: wink at him._ Keith does just that, making eye contact and then closing one of his eyelids. 

“Something in your eye?” Shiro asks. 

“Uh,” Keith says. “Yeah. You. You, uh, caught my eye.” He tries to waggle his eyebrows, the way Lance trained him to do. 

Shiro frowns. “What?” 

“Never mind,” Keith sighs, resting his head in his hands. 

Shiro’s brow is wrinkled in concern. “Everything okay?” 

“Everything’s fine,” Keith says. “Everything’s, you know. Normal.” Shiro isn’t responding to his advances at all. He’s just not interested.

The server comes over with a tray of two generous servings of dessert. They’re not fancy, just plain slices plopped on off-white ceramic, but they look _good._ She hands them each a fork. “Enjoy!”

“You’ll have to let me know how that is,” Shiro says, nodding at Keith’s plate. “It looks great.” 

The filling is smooth and white with flecks of green zest, the base crumbly and golden brown. It’s an attractive pie.

Keith decides to give the whole flirting thing one last shot. _Tip #9: Eat in a slow, sensual fashion._ Keith digs his fork into the cake, then—maintaining eye contact with Shiro—brings it to his mouth, slowly sliding the fork out between his lips. 

“Well?” Shiro says, completely unaffected, despite the article promising _he’ll notice—trust us!_ Keith’s shoulders slump. He gives up. “How is it?” 

Shiro may not be into him, but at least he has pie. And now that he’s actually paying attention to what’s in his mouth, it’s _divine_. It’s rich and creamy with a light texture, the gingersnap crust and tart lime complementing it perfectly. 

_“Mmm,”_ Keith moans, the sound slipping between his lips without him even noticing. “Oh, that’s _good.”_

Shiro swallows. “Y-yeah?” 

Keith licks his fork, sucking the last of the morsel off the tines. _“Mmm. Yeah.”_

Shiro’s pupils are blown wide. “Wow, I, uh… I’m glad the dessert worked out for you.” 

“It’s even better than the triple chocolate cake,” Keith says, “if you can believe it. Here. Try.” 

He loads up his fork and reaches across the table to bring a bite to Shiro’s lips.

“Oh, wow _,_ ” Shiro says, not taking his eyes off Keith. There’s a strange, strangled quality to his voice. “Delicious.” 

“Right?” Keith says, taking another bite and closing his eyes to savour it. Another moan slips past his lips. 

“Keith,” Shiro says, his voice low and rough. 

Keith peeks his eyes open. “Mm?” 

“I, um…” Shiro trails off. His cheeks flush a lovely shade of rose as Keith absently licks his fork. 

Shiro takes in a deep breath. “Keith, after this, do you want to… come back to my place?” 

Keith drops his fork, letting it clatter against the plate. “You mean, like…?” 

“If— if you want,” Shiro says. “I could be completely misreading, but—“

“No,” Keith says, then shakes his head vigorously. “I mean yes! I want to. No as in you’re not misreading. I’ve been basically throwing myself at you since you got here.”

Shiro laughs. “Oh, is that what you were doing?” 

“I was _flirting_ ,” Keith huffs. He whips out his phone, pointing to the wikiHow article. “I followed the instructions and everything.”

“I guess that explains some things,” Shiro says. “And that _shirt…”_

“Okay, I get it, the shirt was a misfire,” Keith says.

“I don’t know,” Shiro all but purrs. “I think it would look good on my floor.” 

Keith swings around to the other side of the booth, pressing himself up against Shiro. Dessert abandoned, he cups Shiro’s face with both hands and pulls him into a desperate kiss. 

The lime tastes even better on Shiro’s lips, his mouth hot and wet and pressing back with equal force. Shiro’s human hand rakes through Keith’s hair, the other settling low on his back, tugging him closer. 

A shudder ripples through Keith as Shiro moans into his mouth. Keith’s hands roam, one sliding up the contours of Shiro’s thick thigh.

“Keith,” Shiro groans, pulling away and breaking for air. He presses his hand over Keith’s, interlocking their fingers. “Not here. We can’t…”

“I mean…” Keith cocks his head toward the restrooms. 

“We are _not_ doing this for the first time in the Marble’s bathroom _,”_ Shiro says, suppressing a laugh. 

Keith presses another kiss to Shiro’s mouth. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” 

“How long?” Shiro asks.

“Since I turned sixteen,” Keith says, trailing his fingers over Shiro’s sharp jawline. “Sitting here. In this booth. Your hair was all messed up, your leather jacket dusty from racing through the sand. You looked up across the table from your triple chocolate cake, and you smiled at me, and… I _knew.”_

“Well, aren’t you a sweet-talker,” Shiro says, his voice warm and honeyed. 

“Not as sweet as you?” Keith tries. 

“Don’t kill the mood,” Shiro teases, shutting him up with a forkful of lime mousse. His smile softens. “I love you, you know that?” 

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I think I do.”


End file.
